


Teratrash

by sanguine (aspiepatsy)



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, Multi, Teratophilia, Vampires, clairtangency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16294013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiepatsy/pseuds/sanguine
Summary: just,,,lesbian monsters with some monster fuckin - does what it says on the tin





	Teratrash

There are easy games to play, flirtation, flattery, lying, isolation, death. Bora had played them all, won and lost, gambled and freeloaded but Siyeon had done it so many times, followed the paths of strangers whether it be accidental grazes when walking down the street or as a child, rifling through antiques and forgotten photos under the cobwebs.

Yet she had never been able to bring herself to walk the path of the one person that mattered most. Others with similar abilities had told her to bide her time, to start slow and to a degree, that worked and so she found herself sitting in the light of the streetlight bleeding through the window, tracing the outline of Bora’s body under the covers, occasionally letting her fingers slip under the hem of her shirt, resisting the urge to pull away before she sees anything.

Gripped by a sudden wave of concern, Bora clamps her hands around her lover’s arms when Siyeon goes to brush her hair out of her eyes, her gaze drawn to the silky skin of her hands, glistening under the light like fresh snow. “Siyeon…you’re not wearing your gloves.”

“I-” In a borderline daze, Siyeon pulls her wrists from Bora’s grasp, her fingertips suspended in the air in front of the vampire’s face. “I want to feel _you_.”

Bora’s mouth hung open in an empty response, she had met very few clear-sensed people in her lifetime and even then, they were usually witches and other vampires who had trained for years to wall themselves off from anything they read, but Siyeon, poor Siyeon, she carried everything with her for so long. Forcing her hands down by her sides, Bora closes her mind, hoping to spare Siyeon the more gruesome details.

Resting her palm on the side of Bora’s face, her skin cold as stone, Siyeon draws her thumb along the curve of her cheek. She knew Bora was cold, but she doesn’t want to just feel a wall, she wants to feel the cracks in the mortar and sweep away the moss to find the names of the forgotten carved into the brick.

“Why are you hiding? I don’t need protecting.” The urgency in her voice is palpable at best, she’s spent so long building up her own barriers just to be able to hold the woman she loves and to hit walls just as strong lays waste to her heart.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” In all her life, all that time spent carrying so much regret and guilt, Bora has never wished so hard to just be able to cry once more, if only to exhaust the pain in her heart born of insecurity and fear.

Her ragged wish is silenced by the warmth of Siyeon’s lips over hers, and all too soon, the comforting intimacy is gone and she’s left struggling to meet Siyeon’s gaze.

Siyeon knows she’s done all this before, on the night she met Bora but at the time, her clairtangency had been quelled by stress and her own denial. For the first time, she can really feel Bora, the traces of scars long since healed and she hates to close her eyes because she can see, oh God, she can see. Far too quickly yet hanging in her mind like dust in sunbeams, the crumbling ruins of a house erased from the records, candles flickering as bright as lightning in the dense night and the absolute rush of that first feed, and all the ones after it – the ones finished in alleys and manors and ratty club bathrooms.

Albeit hesitantly, Siyeon lets her focus drift down to the one scar that’s persisted all these years. She’s seen it countless times, the rugged, off-kilter bitemarks from her sire.

“May I?” Siyeon waits for Bora to push her away, no, she expects her to. Her gloves had always kept a boundary that was on her conscience to break, she’d never heard anyone tell her not to see something.

Bora tilts her head. Siyeon’s heartbeat echoes around the room. Her fangs slide out against her lips (in fear or hunger, no one could say). Siyeon’s fingertips brush against the scars and once more, it’s like she’s drowning.

The vision passes, miles ahead of her mind – a tin soldier, a hospital bed, darkness, no not darkness, it’s oil but falling from the sky, the night is so vibrant and alive, how could anyone reject this? Then the hunger, running right to the core of her mind like a steel poker, so all-consuming, on par with the world’s appetite for innocence and dreams.

Covering her mouth instinctively, Siyeon screams against the flesh of her palm as phantom pains tear through each nerve with excruciating precision and Bora toys with the idea of leaving right then and there, unsure if she can stomach a look of disgust on Siyeon’s face but the minute she so much as shifts against the bedclothes, Siyeon’s arms tighten around her.

“Don’t leave. Even if it’s just this one night, stay.”

“It’s too much for you-”

“My gift might not be all I am but it’s part of who I choose to be, and sometimes that means taking in whatever fucked up shit ain’t sugar-coated. You can block me out at any time, but don’t you dare make me just another notch on your belt by walking out of that door.”

The roiling fear in Bora’s chest melts into the cracks in her heart, a sharp pain twisting through her at the bitterness in Siyeon’s voice. For the first time, Bora guides Siyeon’s hand to her chest, right over her heart, letting her feel the stains of past lovers, and that’s all they are – stains of crossed out words on a love letter.

“I’d only ever stay for you.”

 


End file.
